My house

Shit! I promise to blog only one blog per day so that people do not get bored with auntie’s rantings (eh, eh, macam dahan dan ranting ya?). Also people will not know that this poor soul is the weirdo who talks to herself. But dang, I can’t help it. *Sniff, sniff*…. I am going to miss my house. If you live in Penang, owning a house is THE ultimate sign that you are a grown up. And if you are like my pot (???) and I who never inherit a single sen from our parents, but rather have to fill the lubangs like holidays, monthly allowances, medical fees, funeral expenses (God bless my mom, dad, mil and fil’s souls) for them etc, then you will know that having a house is a proof that we had worked hard, saved hard and spend wisely.

Which parents do not imagine a nice house with garden for their kids? Owning that house is like a dream come true because finally, yes, finally, we have a complete home with garden for the kids to err… play with fire, rear rabbits (who boink all the time), plant papaya trees and all those things boring young parents do.

My house – a 2.5 storey terrace, high on the hills in Sungai Ara, overlooking PISA, fresh air, quiet neighbourhood, best fengshui (chey… I no longer believe in that woman who has the same name as me) is sold today. *Sniff, sniff* No, pot and I had not gone bankrupt. It is just that these two foolish individuals were too idealistic once, wanting a nice environment with clean air but forgot the hassles of sending the kids to schools in town (30-60mins drive). I was almost sacked from my previous company for being late for work every morning. Only God knows how traumatic it was to drive at breakneck speed each morning to drop the sons to school. And when they almost reach the school, they discovered they forgot their shoes. (that can be solved ‘cos still can buy from sundry shop). Then, my #1 once forgot his school bag. Yeah, yeah, I was a damn lousy full time working mom. So lousy that I even forgot to wear my bra once!

Now, we live in a tiny apartment next to the school and that house had been rented out to the termites for 3 years now. We did not rent out the house to humans ‘cos I feel it is like strangers raping my house. It is my treasured, little, cosy home which carries so many memories, good and bad. More bad than good, now that I think of it.

So, sayonara house. Chotto matte kudasai (please excuse me while I cry).

But I still have one big headache. Where the hell am I going to store all my furnitures and junks from that house? It is still completely furnished, right down to toilet rolls and soya sauce. And oh… my huge wardrobe of working clothes. Anyone interested in a garage sale? Is 80s and 90s fashion back in style yet? Huh? Huh?

People – you have to bear with my mediocre blogs for the next few months because whenever I try to pack the things from that house, I just couldn’t do it. Every piece has sentimental value. Tiny Lego pieces, worned out little shoes, tattered soft toys, mouldy VHS tapes….. sniff, sniff. The only thing that drove me away from that house was the memories left by Vincent. The only thing I hate about the place is memories of ambulance packing me away or all my broken hopes in the months after that. I remember the location of two 6 ft oxygen tanks (stupid lady paed almost kill the whole Penang island ‘cos she never heard of an oxygen concentrator!). Shit marn, I better stop this or else 5xmom will have no more peminat.